


Widow and Casualty

by viv_is_spooky



Series: Down to the Root [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Conversation, Gen, Oneshot, Relevant to Terminal Sight, Some mentions of blood, The Magnus Institute, Web!Rosie, reluctant alliance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:15:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24814432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viv_is_spooky/pseuds/viv_is_spooky
Summary: Rosie Thames doesn’t consider herself an impatient person. That doesn’t stop her veins from freezing with frustrated anger when the End’s Casualty waltzes into the Institute ten minutes later than scheduled, bleeding profusely from a gash at her hairline, and announces, "I’m here to make a statement!" with a ghoulish grin.
Relationships: Rosie Zampano & Ria Mirti
Series: Down to the Root [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792387
Comments: 11
Kudos: 12





	Widow and Casualty

**Author's Note:**

> Song Recommendation: “Twisted Threads” by The Mechanisms
> 
> ( _”We don't deceive/We just twist the way that they perceive/.../The truth is here for you and I to weave/.../It doesn't matter what you weave if/You're caught in a web before you even begin/.../Have you considered applying for Acheron pre-selection?”_ )

To serve the Spider, one must be methodical in building a web and tireless at spinning threads. Willing to lie in wait for years without wavering in attention. Able to counter setbacks gracefully, reconnecting the tiniest strands of broken silk, always keeping in mind the long game. Rash judgements are not an option, only well-thought-out plans executed with patience.

Rosie Zampano has been playing the long game for years. She doesn’t consider herself an _im_ patient person. Long before she slipped into the role of the Widow just below Elias Bouchard's nose, she'd been waiting. Waiting for _something_ , though she hadn't known what. 

(That is, until the accident happened. Until she walked out of the Institute after a long day, weary after spending hours under the watchful gaze of Elias Bouchard, and struck someone with her vehicle as she backed out of her usual parking space.

She hadn't had time to exit the car before there'd been a bloody face grinning at her from the back window. And Rosie, as always, had been curious. She'd asked questions, turned a frightening encounter into an acquaintance.

A tie between the End and the Eye, orchestrated by the Web.

The Casualty had explained everything. Rosie had done more research, pouring over books from the Institute library and sneaking files temporarily out of the Archives. Elias would notice her momentarily and then seemed to turn away, no longer observant like before. His eyes would glaze over, devoid of their usual sharpness, as his focus slipped away from what she was doing. She found that she quite liked it, pulling strings without him noticing. He could do what he wanted with the Archivist; she never interfered too much with _that_. The Mother had other plans for her as she fell into her role as the Widow.)

The Mother still has plans for her, as best she can tell, and she isn't inclined to upend them. She doesn't want to go back to helplessly watching.

No amount of patience, however, can stop her veins from freezing with frustrated anger when the Casualty waltzes into the Institute ten minutes later than scheduled, bleeding profusely from a gash at her hairline, and announces, “I’m here to make a statement!” with a ghoulish grin.

Sighing inwardly, Rosie runs a hand gently through her hair in an attempt to self-soothe, letting the slight stickiness of spidersilk strands woven into it remind her of why she needs to stay calm. When she feels composed enough, she lifts her glance and scolds, “Ria Mirti, you are a _walking_ statement, and you’d best not let anyone _See_ you.”

The Casualty swipes one hand across her forehead, treating the blood that threatens to fall into her eyes like little more than sweat. “Oh come now, let me have some fun. Is there anything wrong with confusing the Watcher a little?”

The flash of playfulness that crosses her face is infuriating. Really, couldn’t the End have chosen someone a _little_ more mature for this role?

Rosie supposes not. Ria’s childish flare for the dramatic is part of what makes her so effective at inspiring fear.

“The Eye will only play its role if its servants don’t _know_ they’re confused,” she sighs, trying not to sound tired of repeating herself. “You’re fortunate the Head is distracted with his new Archivist right now.”

“Yeah, yeah.” With an unnecessarily pained groan, the Casualty sits down across from Rosie and closes her eyes, lapsing into a deep focus as she wills her own wound to close. When her eyelids flutter open again, brown irises sit in place of red ones. “Sooo, what do you want me to do? There’s got to be a _reason_ you called me here.”

Rosie reflexively starts to protest the assertion, then stops as she registers the faint smirk quirking at the edges of the Casualty’s mouth. Provocation – a flustered response – is what’s wanted here, what’s expected. She refuses to give Ria that satisfaction. “The new Coroner needs a bit of a push,” she says instead. “He’s been wading in the shallows of Terminus for months, and - _what_?”

The smirk has returned to the Casualty’s lips, accompanied by one raised eyebrow and shoulders that shudder slightly with silent laughter.

“Oh, nothing. Go on; I’m _very_ curious about this ‘Coroner in the shallow End’ situation.”

Of _course_ Ria would narrow in on the potential for a joke there. Rosie acknowledges her quip with nothing more than a mildly exasperated sigh before continuing onwards. “Well, his path to becoming has been… _complicated_ by the presence of a fledgling Beholding avatar he seems to have gotten close to - one Gerard Keay.”

“Keay? As in-”

“Yes, as in Mary’s son.”

“Really? Last I heard, he was burning Leitners and making trouble for the Lightless Flame.”

The Casualty sounds preemptively dismissive in her recollections, and Rosie is only barely able to hold herself back from gritting her teeth as she replies, “Yes, well, he had the Beholding’s help in all of that.”

“ _Huh_ . Who would’ve thought? Mary _hated_ the Eye.” The words drip heavy with doubt.

This time, Rosie cannot keep the tense snap of irritation out of her tone as she replies. “You of all people should understand the desire to oppose a parent’s wishes.”

Every molecule of air in the room freezes, following Ria’s lead as she goes completely still – _deathly_ still, Rosie thinks wryly to herself.

The Casualty’s eyes flash congealed-blood red in a weak, quavering threat. Rosie allows herself the smallest of laughs at the sight.

“I don’t like being _mocked_ ,” Ria seethes, drawing herself up from the chair to full height.

The action is wobbly in spite of itself, insecure enough that Rosie doesn’t bother to match it.

As the Casualty spins on one combat-boot-clad heel to leave the Institute, Rosie calls a last warning after her. “Do yourself a favor and take Gerard seriously. He’s growing quite powerful these days.”

**Author's Note:**

> Updated as of 02.03.21 to reflect new revelations about Rosie's character from Episode 192, because I thought a lot about how I wanted to _~weave~_ her fleshed-out personality into this au. ::::)


End file.
